Shivis was still sitting on the bed when the door made a sound.
Not loud. Just a soft click, different from before.
He looked up at once.
The door slid open.
A woman stepped inside alone. She wore simple clothes—not the dark coats, not the uniforms. Just a plain shirt, dark pants, and flat shoes. No weapons. No visible tools.
She stopped a few steps away.
"Hi," she said.
Her voice sounded normal.
Not sharp. Not cold.
Shivis blinked, surprised. "Hi."
She smiled a little, like someone unsure if smiling was the right thing to do.
"I'm here to check on you," she said. "Is that okay?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "I think so."
She came closer, slow enough that he could see everything she did. She didn't touch him. Didn't stand too close either.
"My name is Aerin," she said. "You can sit or stand. Whatever's easier."
Shivis stayed seated.
She glanced around the room, then back at him. "Did they give you food?"
"Yes."
"Water?"
"Yes."
She nodded, like that mattered.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Shivis felt awkward. Like he was supposed to say something but didn't know what.
"So…" he began, then stopped.
Aerin waited.
"What is this place?" he asked finally.
She didn't answer right away.
Instead, she pulled a chair from the wall and sat down, keeping space between them. Her hands rested on her knees, fingers still.
"It's a safe place," she said.
Shivis frowned. "Safe for who?"
She looked at him carefully. "For now? For you."
That didn't clear much.
He shifted on the bed. "How long do I stay here?"
"I don't know," she said honestly.
He studied her face, trying to see if she was lying. He wasn't good at that. She didn't look like she was hiding anything.
"Are you a doctor?" he asked.
"No."
"A guard?"
"No."
"Then what?"
She gave a small shrug. "Someone who talks."
That made him let out a short breath, almost a laugh. "I can talk."
"I know," she said. "That's why I'm here."
They sat in silence again.
Shivis felt the warmth in his chest shift slightly. Not reacting to her. Just… aware.
Aerin noticed his pause. "Does it hurt?" she asked quietly.
He thought about it. "No," he said. "It just feels… strange."
She nodded slowly, like that made sense.
"If anything feels wrong," she said, "you should tell someone."
"Like you?"
"Yes."
Shivis looked down at his hands. They were steady. That surprised him.
"Okay," he said.
Aerin stood. "I'll come back later."
"Will you?" he asked before she could turn away.
She hesitated. Just a second.
"Yes," she said. "I will."
She walked to the door.
Before it closed, Shivis spoke again. "Am I… in trouble?"
Aerin paused, hand on the panel.
"No," she said gently. "Not for anything you did."
The door closed.
Shivis sat alone again.
He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.
Shivis woke up not knowing when he had fallen asleep.
He sat up slowly, blinking. The lights in the room were dimmer now, softer than before. Not dark. Just low enough that his eyes didn't hurt.
For a moment, he forgot where he was.
Then he saw the glass wall.
The cameras.
The wrist band.
Memory settled back in.
He swung his legs off the bed. The floor was cool under his feet, smooth and clean. He stood there for a second, steadying himself, then stretched his arms above his head.
Nothing stopped him.
That surprised him.
A panel near the wall opened with a quiet sound. Another food pack. Another cup of water.
Same as before.
He ate slowly this time, chewing carefully. The food tasted the same—plain, filling. He didn't rush. There was nowhere to be.
Afterward, he washed his hands at the small sink built into the wall. The water was warm today. Yesterday, he thought, it had been cooler.
Or maybe he was imagining it.
He sat back down on the bed and waited.
Nothing happened.
After some time, the screen on the wall turned on—not with words, just a soft light. It stayed like that for a while, then turned off again.
No message.
No warning.
Shivis frowned.
"They do things without saying why," he muttered.
The warmth in his chest stayed quiet. It didn't explain. It didn't comfort. It just stayed.
He lay back and stared at the ceiling again, tracing the same lines as before. This time, he noticed a new detail—a tiny mark near one corner. So small he might have missed it before.
Someone had scratched it.
Just once.
Shivis didn't know why that bothered him, but it did.
Later, the door opened again.
Aerin stepped inside, carrying a small tablet. She smiled when she saw him awake.
"You slept," she said.
"I think so," he replied.
"That's good."
She sat in the same chair as before. Same distance. Same calm posture.
"Do you need anything?" she asked.
Shivis thought about it. "Can I walk around?"
She hesitated. "Not yet."
"Why?"
She didn't answer right away. Then, "It's not my decision."
He nodded. That made sense in a way he didn't like.
They talked a little. About nothing important. How the food was. Whether the room was too cold. Simple things.
Normal things.
When she stood to leave, Shivis asked, "Do you come here every day?"
"Yes," she said.
"Do they tell you what I am?"
Her eyes flicked to the glass wall for just a moment.
"No," she said. "They tell me what to ask."
She left.
Shivis lay back down.
The room felt quieter after she was gone.
He didn't know how long he would stay here.
But he was starting to understand one thing—
They weren't rushing.
And that meant he shouldn't either.
Aerin came back later.
Shivis knew it was later because the light in the room had shifted again—brighter than before, but not harsh. The room seemed to have its own sense of time, even if he didn't.
She carried nothing this time.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," Shivis replied.
She stood near the door, not sitting right away. "They've made a small change," she said.
Shivis waited.
"It's nothing serious," she added quickly. "Just… something we need you to follow."
"What kind of thing?" he asked.
She stepped closer, stopping a few feet away. "They'd like you not to speak out loud when you're alone."
Shivis blinked. "Why?"
She gave a small shrug. "It helps keep things calm."
He thought about it.
He hadn't been talking much anyway. Just small comments to himself. Filling the quiet.
"I can do that," he said.
Aerin's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank you."
That reaction surprised him.
"Does it bother someone?" he asked.
"Not exactly," she said. "It's just easier this way."
Easier for who, he wondered—but didn't ask.
She sat down this time. "If you need to say something," she added, "wait until someone's here."
"Okay," Shivis said.
It didn't feel like a big request.
He nodded once, like agreeing to keep his voice down in a shared room.
Aerin smiled. "I appreciate it."
She stayed a few more minutes, asking simple questions. Did he sleep. Was the food enough. Did he feel dizzy.
All normal.
When she left, the room felt the same as before.
Quiet.
Shivis lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
He opened his mouth to say something—then stopped.
He closed it again.
The room stayed silent.
The warmth in his chest didn't react.
It didn't need to.
Shivis turned on his side, resting his head on his arm.
It was a small rule.
Easy to follow.
And because it was easy, he didn't think about what it meant to agree.
Shivis woke up sitting instead of lying down.
He didn't remember choosing to sleep like that.
His back was against the wall, knees drawn slightly up, arms loose around them. The room was brighter now. Not suddenly—just enough that he noticed the difference.
He rubbed his face with both hands.
Something felt off.
Not inside him.
Around him.
He stood and walked a few slow steps, testing the space again. The room hadn't changed, but the feeling stayed, like when someone looks at you from behind and you turn too late.
Shivis stopped near the glass wall.
His reflection stared back.
For a moment, he thought he saw movement behind it—shadows shifting where there shouldn't be any. He leaned closer.
Nothing.
Just glass.
He stepped back.
On the other side of the wall, somewhere far enough not to be seen clearly, a screen changed.
No alarms. No flashing lights.
Just a quiet adjustment.
Someone leaned forward in a chair.
Someone else folded their hands.
No one spoke loudly.
"Why do I feel like that?" Shivis whispered—then caught himself.
He closed his mouth.
The silence felt thicker after that.
He drank some water, slower than usual. As he set the cup down, he noticed something strange—the panel that usually opened by itself hadn't moved yet.
A few seconds passed.
Then it opened.
Right after he noticed it.
Shivis frowned.
"That's new," he thought—but didn't say.
He sat on the bed again. The mattress dipped under his weight. As he did, a soft sound came from the ceiling, barely noticeable, like fabric brushing fabric.
He looked up.
Nothing.
But the sound didn't repeat.
Somewhere beyond the glass, a man tapped his finger once on a desk.
Once.
Then stopped.
A woman tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing—not at Shivis, but at a set of numbers Shivis couldn't see.
The screen near the wall lit for half a second.
Not with words.
Just a shape.
Then it went dark again.
Shivis felt a strange urge to stay still.
Not fear.
More like instinct.
So he did.
He sat quietly, hands resting on his legs, breathing slow. The warmth in his chest stayed calm, unchanged, like it had already accepted this kind of attention.
Minutes passed.
Or longer.
Finally, the door opened.
Aerin stepped inside, carrying the tablet again. Her steps were slower today. More careful.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," Shivis replied.
She looked at him, then briefly at the glass wall, then back at him.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"I think so," he said honestly. "It just feels… quiet."
She smiled a little, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Yes," she said. "It is."
She didn't say anything more.
She didn't need to.
Behind the glass, someone nodded.
Someone else wrote something down.
And Shivis, unaware of how many eyes were resting on him, simply waited—trying to understand a feeling that had no name yet.
Aerin was still standing there.
She hadn't sat down.
That alone felt different.
Shivis noticed it without knowing why. She usually sat. Today, she stayed near the door, one hand resting lightly against the tablet, fingers still.
"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.
The question came out before he could stop it.
Aerin looked surprised. "No," she said quickly. "Why would you think that?"
He shrugged. "You're just… standing."
She glanced at the glass wall again. This time she didn't hide it.
"No," she repeated, slower. "You didn't do anything wrong."
That didn't settle the feeling.
A soft sound came from the ceiling—different from before. Not a hum. More like a quiet adjustment. Shivis felt it through the floor, a faint vibration under his feet.
He shifted his weight.
Somewhere beyond the glass, chairs scraped softly.
Not all at once. One. Then another.
Aerin's tablet lit up without a sound.
She looked down.
Her expression changed—not fear, not panic. Focus.
"Oh," she said quietly.
Shivis straightened. "What is it?"
She hesitated. Just long enough for him to notice.
"They're asking for you to stand," she said.
"Why?"
Another pause.
"Just… stand," she repeated.
Shivis did.
The moment he stood fully upright, the vibration under the floor stopped.
The room felt tighter.
Not smaller—but held.
The glass wall darkened slightly, like the light beyond it had dimmed. His reflection sharpened, clearer than before. For a second, it felt like he was standing in front of a mirror that didn't quite match him.
The warmth in his chest stirred.
Just a little.
Enough for him to notice.
Aerin swallowed. "Stay where you are."
"I am," he said.
The screen on the wall turned on again.
No words.
Just a thin line—horizontal, steady—slowly moving upward.
Shivis didn't know what it measured.
He only knew it was measuring him.
Behind the glass, someone leaned forward too far.
Another person raised a hand—not to stop anything, just in case.
Aerin took one step back.
"Shivis," she said softly, "whatever you're feeling—don't react to it."
"I don't know what I'm feeling," he replied honestly.
The line on the screen jumped.
Not high.
Not low.
Just… wrong.
The warmth in his chest pressed once, firmer than before.
Not comfort.
A warning.
The lights flickered.
Just once.
And every movement beyond the glass stopped at the same time.